


From Dark to Light

by yunmin



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Falling In Love, Imprisonment, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Rescue Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:41:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21617767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yunmin/pseuds/yunmin
Summary: In a cold, miserable cell, the only surviving member of the Rogue One team reflects on two years of captivity, and how no one seems to care that he's still alive. And then that all changes when one bright, blonde rebel pilot is thrown into his cell, insisting that his friends are coming to save him.A tale of three Rogue pilots and how they will always come to rescue each other.
Relationships: Wedge Antilles/Bodhi Rook/Luke Skywalker
Comments: 7
Kudos: 61
Collections: Star Wars Rare Pairs Exchange 2019





	From Dark to Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ancslove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ancslove/gifts).



It’s cold.

The cell they he’s stuck in is cold, damp and miserable. He feels every one of these things deep in his bones; what is left of them anyway. The water gets everywhere and threatens to rust the joints of his rudimentary prosthetics, damaging something which barely works in the first place.

It’s still better than the blinding heat, the flash of light as everything burns. Those memories haunt every moment.

He is alone, except for the guard who comes by once per day to deposit food rations. The silence stretches on and on. His imprisonment makes him a no-one, and he guesses that is the entire point of it.

He doesn’t exist.

He is no one.

And no one is coming to save him.

He is doomed to spend the rest of his days here, in this hell, until the misery kills him. But the explosion didn’t, just tore skin from his bones and took his right forearm and left leg. It may be a long time until the dark comes for him.

Those injuries make the thought of escape impossible. His prosthetic leg is as basic as they come, only enough to balance and walk short distances on. The arm is only slightly better. But it has never interfaced properly, and the joints are always failing, and it cannot be relied upon for anything.

So it’s hopeless.

Until one day, almost two standard years on from when he was dumped in this hellhole, the guard comes by for the second time in a rotation.

They never do that.

Someone else is with him; a prisoner. Their dress is non-descript. A shag of golden blonde hair tops a face with bright blue eyes. He fights against the bindings on his wrists, but to no avail. When they reach the cell door, the guard opens it, removes the man’s bindings, and shoves him roughly inside and to the floor.

“You’ll pay for this!” The blonde man says, voice fierce. “You’ll see. My friends will come for me.”

“You’ll rot here, just like him,” the guard retorts, locking the cell door back up and leaving.

The prisoner in the cell watches as his fellow prisoner gets his bearings. He wonders if he should help, but the other man seems to have it covered. They take in their surroundings, settling on the man they’re sharing the cell with.

“I know you,” the blonde says.

He looks over, eyes wide with regard.

“No one knows me.”

“No, I do. You’re the pilot,” the blonde says. “You’re the one who brought the Death Star plans. Rogue One. Bodhi Rook.”

Bodhi flinches.

It’s been two years since anyone mentioned his name.

The blonde notices the flinch. “I was right,” he says. He leans in, offering his hand to Bodhi. “I’m Luke Skywalker. It’s okay; I’m a friend. I’m with the Rebellion. You don’t have to worry about anything anymore.” Bodhi doesn’t take the offered hand; how long has it been since he touched anyone? “My friends will come and rescue me, you’ll see, and they’ll rescue you too.”

Skywalker is full of boundless optimism, and Bodhi wonders how long it will last in the bleak conditions.

“Your friends won’t be able to rescue you,” Bodhi says. “No one makes it out of here alive.”

* * *

On the ledge of a snowy mountain, Wedge Antilles peers down at the castle fortress through a pair of binoculars. He can see the guards making their rotations, slow and steady. If they’ve got this right, they’re about to see a shift change.

Wedge counts down in his head the seconds. On cue, the guards return to the front and all turn in. A whole minute passes before the next set appear. It takes another two minutes for them to return fully to their posts.

“Three minutes,” he says, lowering the binoculars. “That’s the window we have to slip past the guards.”

“That might get us in, but it doesn’t explain how we’re going to get out,” Hobbie replies. “And we have no idea what condition the boss is in.”

“Commander Skywalker was walking when he was taken.” Wedge remembers the moment so clearly, Luke trapped on the other side of the hills, the entirety of the Rogues powerless to prevent him from being taken. “He can get himself out, if we give him the opportunity.”

“Or get us all killed,” Tycho Celchu adds.

Wes nods. “I mean, I’m all up for rushing headlong into danger to save the boss, but this plan is half-baked even for me.”

“It’ll work.” Wedge forces the words out of his mouth, even if he has no real confidence in them. It _has_ to work, because he isn’t leaving Luke behind here.

“Look,” Hobbie ventures. “Wedge. We all know you have mushy feelings about the boss that you aren’t supposed to have.”

Wedge winces. He can’t deny it, because it’s true and they all know it. Even Luke, usually cheerfully oblivious to everything, is aware of the way Wedge feels, Wedge is pretty sure, they just haven’t worked out how to move forward about that fact considering the chain of command and responsibilities that lie between them.

“And that’s fine!” Hobbie continues. “None of us care about that. But the reason you aren’t supposed to have those feelings about Luke is because they might compromise your judgement, and Wedge: your judgement is compromised about this right now.”

Wedge folds his arms, taking in what Hobbie says. He’s right. All Wedge can think about is Luke alone in there, being tortured by the Imperials, and how much Wedge needs to get him out. It’s not the mindset for coming up with a good plan; it’s a mindset for coming up with a reckless plan that might well get them all killed.

“Alright,” Wedge says. “You’ve got six hours, all of you. Make a better plan, and we’ll go with that. Or I’m going in after him, on my own if I have too.”

* * *

If Luke’s sense of time hasn’t gone entirely squiff by virtue of being captured and thrown into a cell with no real way to discern the time, he thinks about six hours have gone by since he was thrown in this cell.

His only companion in this lonely, cold place stopped talking to him five hours ago.

Bodhi Rook was the last person Luke ever expected to find. The heroes of the Scarif mission, the Rogue One team; they’re all dead. Luke has heard the stories. Only a handful of ships escaped. The plans were transmitted out in a last ditch effort before the Death Star fired at Scarif.

But it’s Bodhi Rook before him. Luke knows the face, even though it’s been changed by injury and two years of captivity; dark hair growing long and wild, beard full, scarring on his cheeks and face. A portrait of Bodhi Rook hangs in Rogue Squadron’s ready room, their patron saint; they pray to him before each mission, hoping that he’ll wish them good fortune and success in their task.

He and Wedge named Rogue Squadron after Bodhi Rook and Rogue One, after all.

Luke shivers. The cell is cold, and the guards seem in no hurry to provide clothing that’ll stand up to the elements. Bodhi is in a thin grey jumpsuit that can’t possibly keep him warm enough.

Luke knows his faith in Wedge isn’t misplaced. Wedge, and the rest of the Rogues, will come for him come hell or high water. This complex isn’t particularly secure, and it’s cut off from Imperial reinforcements. And they don’t seem to have any idea who they have. Luke knows the size of the bounty on his head; he’s wanted alive, by Vader himself, and Vader is prepared to pay for him. The locals seem content to let him rot here, same as they have left Bodhi to rot.

He hopes Wedge comes for him soon.

Luke looks across to Bodhi again. Bodhi seems completely devoid of hope; he doesn’t believe anyone will come for him. It’s been two years; Luke can’t really blame him. He doesn’t have a Wedge, who will charge into the fire for him; Bodhi lost all those people on the planet of Scarif. It’s no wonder he’s lost faith.

“No one knew you were alive,” Luke says, voice breaking through the silence. “If we’d have known that anyone survived the blast at Scarif, we’d have come for you; you have to know that. Even if High Command hadn’t approved it, my squadron—we wouldn’t leave a member of Rogue One behind. We won’t leave you behind, Bodhi.”

Luke waits for a reaction. He doesn’t necessarily expect one, but he wants one. Bodhi is intriguing and infuriating in equal measure, and Luke knows there will be no real progress made until Wedge turns up and proves Luke right. Until they have Bodhi safely back at the Rebellion.

Bodhi keeps staring at the wall, ignoring Luke.

Luke sighs. It’s gonna be a long wait until Wedge shows up.

* * *

The guard comes by with food for Bodhi and Luke. Bodhi scratches another mark in the wall, a desperate and dim hope of reminding himself that time isn’t an endless spiral but does delineate into days. Luke looks aghast when he catches sight of the number of marks on the wall.

He eats his food quietly, without voicing complaint, even though it’s even worse than usual—and it’s never good. Bodhi is grateful for the quiet.

Luke may believe that his friends are coming for him, that the Rebellion looks after its own, but Bodhi can’t have that kind of faith.

He tried to do the right thing, and he was tortured for it. The leaders of the Rebellion didn’t consider the threat serious enough. And they’d gone and died for it anyway, to get the plans, and Bodhi was happy to die for something he believed in but he didn’t even have that dignity. And the Rebellion never came for him.

The hours stretch on and on.

Luke doesn’t say much else. He’s tucked himself into a corner, the cold getting to him. Bodhi wonders how long it’ll take for his resolve to drop. He’s still as Bodhi watches him, taking in the curve of his face, the curl of his hair, how impossibly young he seems.

Then, Luke’s head tilts. He’s heard something. Bodhi listens, but his fine hearing is shot; something to do with the explosion.

“Blaster fire,” Luke says, by way of information. “I told you someone would come for us.”

Blaster fire is no indication of that, Bodhi thinks. For all he knows, it could be a regular occurrence; a training session that could be heard even from their cell. Just because Luk believes, that doesn’t mean anything.

It’s a few minutes before Bodhi starts to pick it up, the sound of blaster fire getting closer to them. It doesn’t sound like a training exercise. The blaster fire dies down, replaced by footsteps, and then one final shot, and then there’s a man at their cell door, dressed in the bright orange Bodhi vividly remembers from Yavin.

“Wedge!” Luke yells.

“Luke!” comes the reply. Then Wedge’s eyes catch on to the fact that Luke isn’t the only person in the cell. His eyes go wide, and Bodhi realises that Wedge knows who he is as well. “Bodhi Rook?”

“Long story,” Luke says, already at Bodhi’s side and helping to haul him to his feet. “Let’s get out of here.”

Wedge appears at Bodhi’s side too, grabbing an elbow. “Can you walk? Run?” he asks, taking into account Bodhi’s prosthetics and their utter inadequacy. “We do need to be quick, would it be easier if one of us carried you?”

Bodhi shakes his head. “I can walk.” He’s loathe to have either of them carry him.

Wedge looks to Luke, unconvinced by Bodhi’s statement. He hands his blaster to Luke. “You cover us, you’re the better shot,” he says, hooking Bodhi’s arm over his shoulder. Luke takes the front, and Bodhi limps, half of his weight on Wedge, behind Luke. Wedge, and whoever he has with him, seem to have done a thorough job, taking out the guards in the facility.

They make their way down winding corridors, passing few guards, until they step out the front door of the facility. There are three other pilots waiting for them, all of who’s eyes go wide when they see Bodhi. Bodhi suspects that they all recognise who he is.

But Bodhi can only truly think about his first steps on free ground, breathing in the clean mountain air. It’s been so long since he was truly free; longer than the time he’s spent in that hellhole, for service under the Empire never truly felt like freedom.

Now ... now he can do whatever he wants.

* * *

Back in the hangar of Home One, the Rebellion’s current flagship, Wedge watches as the medical staff and Mon Mothma herself turn up to deal with the sudden appearance of Bodhi Rook.

Wedge had been in communications the day the mission to Scarif happened. He remembers the messages coming through of the losses. No one who’d been on the planet after the shield gate closed had made it out alive; that was a fact.

But one had.

Wedge swings under the wings of his ship, making his way to Luke’s parked X-Wing. Luke had stolen an Imperial shuttle to fly Bodhi home, his X-Wing returning under R2-D2’s watchful eye, navigation slaved to Wedge’s ship for most of the ride home. The ship hasn’t suffered for it, as Wedge walks round it, inspecting it slowly.

Luke comes over, after he’s finished dispatching Bodhi into safe hands. “She okay?” Luke asks, inclining his head towards his ship.

“She’s fine,” Wedge replies. “Right as rain. And you?”

Wedge doesn’t want to voice his worry; the absolute terror that had filled him when he wondered if he’d ever see Luke again.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Luke looks at him, considering something for a moment. “I always knew you were coming for me.”

There’s something soft in Luke’s expression, the faith he’d kept in Wedge radiating. Wedge feels awkward with it; it’s true, but for Wedge it hadn’t been anything special. He’d always known he had to rescue Luke.

“I couldn’t leave you behind,” Wedge says. Couldn’t leave Luke behind because he loved him, because the decision to leave the man he loved behind would have haunted him for the rest of his days. But he can’t say that; Luke isn’t ready to hear it, not quite yet. “Besides, then they’d have given me the squadron, and I don’t want that responsibility.”

Luke scoffs, shoving Wedge in the shoulder, friendly camaraderie all there is between them once more. “You accepted it happening when you agreed to be my second, you know.”

Wedge just shrugs. He’d never thought that much about it, because that meant thinking about a world where Luke wasn’t there anymore, and that was beyond countenance.

Instead, Wedge changes the subject. “So, what do we do about Bodhi Rook?”

“We?” Luke looks askance. “High Command’s going to look after him. He needs looking after, not dragging back into a war?”

Luke is right. Still. “High Command don’t know what it’s like to go fight a war and lose everyone,” Wedge says. “Not the way you or I do.”

“We didn’t lose everyone,” Luke replies. “We have each other.”

“And Bodhi’s going to need someone too.”

* * *

Luke spends a lot of time that afternoon debriefing. He spends a full hour in Mon Mothma’s office. It’s clear she’s distressed at the idea that the Rebellion could have left one of their own out there for so long, the usual mantle of calm she wears cracking under the strain of this new discovery. Luke doesn’t gloss over his opinion of Bodhi’s captivity; the isolation and how he was so sure that no one was coming for him.

He has dinner with Leia, who’s curious about their new arrival. Leia, the one who received the plans they sacrificed their lives to get. Luke’s asked her about the rebels that went to Scarif before, but Leia never met the Rogue One team except from Cassian Andor.

They talk for a long while after dinner, catching up. Leia berates him for getting caught, but is glad he’s alright. Glad that Wedge was there to pick up the pieces, as he always was.

When Luke returns to the quarters he and Wedge share, Wedge is already tucked up in his bunk, quietly reading something on his datapad. Luke tries to disturb him as little as possible as he undresses and gets ready for bed. They’re lucky enough to have a private refresher, which Luke ducks into to change and brush his teeth. When he enters the room again, Wedge has switched the light off, curled on his side.

Luke sits on the edge of his bed, thinking. He got lucky; he had Wedge. Wedge has had his back at every point, ever since that battle in the skies above Yavin. There was never any moment where Luke had any doubt; as long as Wedge was alive, Wedge would come for him. It’s the promise they made to each other as commander and executive officer, as squadron mates, that they would never leave the other behind.

They don’t talk about it, but Luke knows there’s more to it. He knows that Wedge has feelings for him, a crush that seems to have solidified into something more without either of them doing anything about it. Luke hasn’t spent too much time examining his own feelings, because it’s a complication that neither of them needs right now, but...

Luke stands up, taking the two steps it takes to hit Wedge’s bunk. “Move over,” he says, quietly, a hand to Wedge’s shoulder.

Wedge turns his head to squint at him in the dark. “What, Luke?”

“Move?”

Luke keeps his voice soft, pushing, until Wedge shuffles over enough for Luke to slide in the bunk behind him. Luke pulls the covers over the pair of them and then wraps his arms around Wedge, pulling Wedge back into his chest. Wedge stiffens for a moment but then relaxes, leaning back into Luke, allowing himself to luxuriate in the feeling of being held.

“Thank you,” Luke says, pushing as much sincerity into his voice as he can. “For saving me.”

Wedge shrugs. “Was nothing. You’d have done the same for me.”

That’s true; Luke would have. But would Wedge have had the same certainty that Luke was coming for him? “No, it matters. I never doubted for a moment that I’d be rescued because I knew you were out there and I knew you’d come for me.” Luke nuzzles into Wedge’s shoulder, finding a slip of skin and pressing a kiss to it. “I felt safe knowing that. That’s important.”

Wedge lifts his hand, finding one of Luke’s and weaving their fingers together. “You’re important to me,” he replies, the closest he’s ever got to voicing his feelings aloud. “I’ll always come for you.”

Luke squeezes Wedge’s hand. “And I’ll do the same. You know that right?”

Wedge nods. “Always, Luke.”

* * *

Bodhi Rook really isn’t sure what to make of his new life in the Rebellion.

It turns out they feel very guilty about not rescuing him sooner. They had no idea he was alive; the outpost he was held at didn’t do a very good job of reporting their captives to the Imperials, and even the Empire had no idea it had Bodhi Rook amongst its prisoners.

Bodhi is fitted with new, top of the line prosthetics. Medical can’t do much about the burn scars, unfortunately. But they’re just signs of where he’s been. Cleaned up, undercut shaved back into place and hair tightly braided across his scalp, Bodhi feels more human than he has in years. He chooses prosthetics in matte black, for utility rather than life—if he’s lost limbs, he’s going to use it to his advantage.

People already stare. It’s because he’s a hero, because Rogue One is legendary amongst the Rebellion. They were the ones who sparked the fire that lit the flame of the Rebellion, and that flame currently burns bright across the Galaxy.

Mon Mothma—who is far more weary and exhausted than Bodhi remembers her—tells him it’s his choice what he does with his life now. The Rebellion has no right to ask anything more of him: he’s given enough. But Bodhi can hardly return to Jedha; there is nothing of his previous life to return to. He will stay with the Rebellion, fly cargo ships and shuffle freight around. That’s what he knows what to do.

Rogue Squadron—an entire squadron named in remanence of the thing Bodhi thought up in a panic when leaving Yavin IV—try to recruit him. But Bodhi never had any interest in being a Starfighter pilot, and definitely has no interest in being a Rebel Ace, at the forefront of such things.

Despite declining their offer as firmly as he can, Bodhi has had no luck getting Luke Skywalker and Wedge Antilles to leave him alone.

They do back off the squadron thing. Eventually. They don’t take down the picture of Bodhi that hangs in Rogue Squadron’s ready room, and is the reason why Bodhi initially avoids the place. It’s a good luck charm, they say; Bodhi is a good luck charm. That’s why they want to keep him around.

Bodhi will be honest; whilst he’ll grumble that they’re a pain in the ass whenever anyone asks him, it’s sort of nice that they won’t let him be alone. Without them, it would have been far easier to retreat inward on himself. Bodhi didn’t come to the Rebellion with friends, and any he made died on Scarif.

Besides, Bodhi isn’t blind. He hears ground crews refer to Luke Skywalker as the poster boy of the Rebellion, and he has the charm and good looks to pull it off. And Wedge? Wedge, with his silky dark hair and beautiful eyes? He was beautiful in his own way.

Not that Bodhi allowed himself the chance to look, because scuttlebutt was that Wedge was in love with Luke, and the only reason Luke wasn’t returning those feelings was because he didn’t want to upset the balance of what Rogue Squadron had now.

Bodhi wasn’t in the mood of pushing his luck.

Even if Luke did keep smiling wide at him, or Wedge would quietly come and run things past him at the end of a long day. Bodhi was just happy to be here, in the Rebellion, quietly doing some good amongst friends.

* * *

Wedge relishes the feeling of his feet hitting the deck. Sure, there are treadmills in the exercise rooms for them to use, but nothing quite beats the feeling of running and actually going somewhere, even if it is just laps around the ship.

It’s even better on days like today, when he’s managed to swing a companion into it. Bodhi Rook runs besides him, feet uneven as they hit the deck, one his own in a rubber soled boot and one the cold steel of his black prosthetic limb.

They’ve set a good pace, one that means they’re breathing too hard for talking. Besides, what Wedge likes most about Bodhi in the six months he’s now known him is that Bodhi knows the value of silence, something that Wedge’s squadron mates just never seem to appreciate. Running through the corridors, side by side, that’s all Wedge needs this morning.

They run the main corridor loop of the ship twice before coming to a stop outside Rogue Squadron’s ready room, panting hard. Wedge bends over, hands on his knees to catch his breath, whilst Bodhi stretches upwards, arms above his head, tank top lifting to show a tantalising strip of golden skin at his waist.

Wedge stares, even as he knows he shouldn’t. Bodhi, it turns out, is beautiful in a way that the few scant holographs of him that the Rebellion had never portrayed. There’s no harm in looking, he tells himself. And besides, Bodhi is someone he could have; unlike Luke, where even though Wedge is pretty sure his feelings are reciprocated, neither of them is willing to jeopardise Rogue Squadron by making a move.

But also, Bodhi seems to have only just made his peace with being friends, so Wedge isn’t going to push his luck beyond a little bit of flirting now and then.

“Too much?” Bodhi asks, looking languid and not at all like he’s just run the same distance Wedge did.

“You and your prosthetics,” Wedge spits back. “I know they give you an advantage, don’t deny it.”

“Wasn’t a race.” Bodhi shrugs.

Wedge concedes the point. He stretches upwards, not wanting the stiffness to set into his limbs. His shirt is sticking to him, in a way that isn’t entirely comfortable. Bodhi makes an amused face at the expression he pulls.

“I need a shower,” Wedge declares. “Might be late to morning briefing, but Luke will live.”

“Might join you,” Bodhi says, with a slight shrug of the shoulders. “Sounds good.”

Wedge keeps the blush off his face though it threatens to rise at Bodhi’s insinuation. He doesn’t need thoughts of Bodhi joining him in the shower right now. Not when he has to walk through Rogue Squadron’s ready room to get to the pilots’ shared refresher. Throwing it off, he pushes his way through the door. Bodhi follows.

There’s some brief chatter; Hobbie and Tycho are talking. Wes is sprawled out on the plank along the far wall, napping. Luke is tucked into a corner with a mug of caf beside him, also sleeping. Wedge probably doesn’t need to worry too much about being late to briefings.

Showering is simple enough; strip, avoid sending wandering eyes looking at Bodhi, and get clean. Wedge manages that bit with ease. It’s dressing afterwards, Wedge pulling clothes from his locker, when Bodhi approaches him with a towel slung low on his hips, that he struggles with.

“Can I borrow something?” Bodhi looks sheepish. “Usually there’s a stash of my things in Luke’s, but he seems clean out and none of mine has been replenished.”

Wedge furrows his brow. It’s fair enough, but he feels a little set up. “Sure.” He rummages through his locker, extracting clean underwear, trousers and a top; enough to get Bodhi back to quarters decently.

Bodhi’s fingers brush his as he hands it over. “Thanks,” he says, and Wedge knows that he can’t be flirting but in that moment he wants nothing more than to push Bodhi back against a shower wall and have his way with him.

Dammit.

* * *

It’s been forty-eight hours since Luke saw Wedge and Hobbie fly off on a mission and they’re twelve hours overdue.

He knows that pacing the flight deck isn’t doing anyone any good, but what else is he supposed to do? He’s tried to catch some sleep, but it’s hard. It wasn’t the simplest of missions; there was scope for it to go wrong. It must have done, for them to be this late. But Luke doesn’t know if it was just a misstep, something that caused a delay, or if Wedge and Hobbie were shot down or captured.

Luke isn’t alone in his worry; Wes is almost as twitchy, and even Tycho is in the hangar, anxiously watching the other two.

There’s a nervous energy about. Everyone knows that two of Rogue Squadron’s pilots are overdue. The Alliance’s premier squadron. Pilots die every day, but most recognise that losing Wedge Antilles, one of the survivors of the Battle of Yavin, would be a blow to operational efficiency and morale.

It’s another hour before a ship is registered, right at the border of the CAP patrol.

It’s only a single ship.

Luke’s heart is high in his chest as he waits for the CAP to identify it. “It’s Rogue Four,” the comes officer reports.

It’s Hobbie. Not Wedge. Where is Wedge. Luke tries not to panic, but it’s hard; Wedge is lost, in some way. He has to wait until Hobbie’s back to know if it’s permanent or not.

Hobbie’s X-Wing is guided in to land by an A-Wing and Y-Wing from the CAP. Hobbie pops the canopy and leaps from his ship to the ground before the ground team can fetch a ladder, heading towards Luke.

“They took Wedge alive.” The first words out of Hobbie’s mouth are a balm to Luke; Wedge is alive. He’s still out there in this galaxy somewhere, and the hope remains that someday, there can be something for them. “The last I saw of him, he was alive. But there was no way I was getting him out, not by myself.”

Hobbie looks pained at that fact. The Rogues never like to leave a man behind. Luke knows, however, that whilst Hobbie is a cautious tactician, he made the right call: Hobbie couldn’t fight the entire Empire himself. “It’s okay, Hobbie,” Luke says. “We’ll get him back.”

Hobbie nods. Wes moves forward to envelop him in a hug, relieved to have his wing mate back, and Luke contemplates what to do now.

It’ll be fine. Hobbie will be debriefed. The Rogues will plan a rescue mission. High Command will approve it. They’ll get Wedge back.

It is not fine.

High Command do not approve the rescue mission.

Mon Mothma looks pained as she does so. But the Alliance does not have the resources to go after one pilot, even if it is Wedge Antilles, on such slim information. He might have last been seen alive, but that is no guarantee he still is.

Luke storms out of the meeting, refusing to accept the decision. He finds Bodhi already waiting by Luke’s X-Wing. Bodhi straightens as soon as he sees Luke, then deflates when he sees Luke’s fury.

“They didn’t approve the mission,” Bodhi says. “They aren’t sending anyone for Wedge. I always knew; the Rebellion can’t afford to waste resources on the little people.”

“Shut up,” Luke says, moving straight past Bodhi to clamber into the cockpit of his X-Wing. His gear is all there. The ship is fuelled up. He could have R2 hack the landing, and make a run for it, go on his own to save Wedge.

Luke remembers being in a cell with Bodhi. He remembers the absolute certainty he’d had, that Wedge was coming to rescue him. He can’t let Wedge down. He would do the same: that’s what he always told himself.

“You can’t rescue him in your X-Wing,” Bodhi says. “You need a bigger ship.”

Luke stops short. He knows Bodhi’s right: Hobbie had said that Wedge’s ship had been destroyed. He’ll need a way to bring Wedge back.

And then Luke realises that there was something in Bodhi’s tone. It wasn’t a criticism; it was an offer. He turns his head to look down at Bodhi. “You offering?” Luke asks, cautiously.

“He rescued me; I owe him one.” Bodhi’s response is casual, but Luke can tell its a pretence. “You aren’t the only one who likes the guy.”

Luke thinks about the feelings he holds for Wedge, buried in his chest, and wonders if Bodhi knows. He wonders if there’s a deeper implication to Bodhi’s words; if Bodhi likes Wedge in that way too. Luke’s watched them, knows that there’s a friendship there. Is it something more?

“Come on,” Bodhi gestures towards a U-Wing. “Let’s go get our boy.”

.

Wedge is currently trapped in an Imperial cell, and Bodhi refuses to let him spend a single moment more than he has to trapped in it. He understands Luke’s certainty now, more than he ever did before: there wasn’t a chance in hell that Bodhi was going to sit around and let Wedge stay captured.

Wedge is his friend, and if Bodhi is honest, there’s something more there too.

High Command will rake them over the coals when they get back, but they’re _Rogues_. It shouldn’t surprise anyone that they’ve gone.

Hobbie had given them a detailed debrief of the location where Wedge had gone done. There’s an imperial base on planet. Patching into the chatter, Bodhi and Luke quickly learn that the Imperials have captured Wedge, and, unlike Bodhi and Luke’s captors, they’ve realised who they have. They’re making arrangements for Wedge to be transferred into the Imperial machine, off to be made an example of, and if that happens all chance of rescue truly is lost.

Luke has plenty of practice breaking into Imperial bases; after all, he and Han Solo managed to get Princess Leia off the Death Star. Luke takes some time, examining the plans of the base R2-D2 has managed to extract. Wedge is under fairly heavy guard, and it’s quickly clear that they would need far more men to stage a direct rescue. Their only chance? Springing Wedge when they move him to the transport that’s coming to take him away.

“I don’t like it,” Bodhi says. “It’s only a small window. If we mess up, we lose him.”

“I know.” Luke consults the plans again. “But I don’t see another option.”

Bodhi leans back. “Neither do I.”

“I don’t want to lose him either,” Luke says, looking wistful. “I can’t lose him,” he admits. “I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

“You love him,” Bodhi says, voicing aloud the words Luke can’t say. “Just as he loves you.”

Luke sighs. “Yeah.” He takes a moment to think, pushing his hair back off his face. “I know I’m not supposed to, chain of command and all. Guess I’m rather proving their point at the moment, neglecting my duties to rescue him. But I can’t help it. That’s the way I feel.” He looks up at Bodhi. “I know you understand that.”

“He’s easy to love,” Bodhi replies. “I—”

“You could make him happy,” Luke says. “That’s all I want, really. For him to be happy and loved.”

Bodhi feels the same way.

He takes Luke’s hand, weaving his fingers together with Luke’s. “Let’s get him back. Then we can work that out.”

* * *

Wedge is alone.

He can’t fault Hobbie for not storming to the rescue immediately; it wasn’t a one man job. Wedge has to be patient, wait for Hobbie to return to the fleet and bring reinforcements. After all, Luke had promised; he’d come for Wedge, the same as Wedge had come for him.

Wedge has to have faith.

But it’s hard, when he’s all alone. It’s hard, when the Imperials have realised who they have. He’s been lucky so far, not to receive a beating, or be tortured. But Wedge also knows that it means one thing and one thing only: he’s going to be sent elsewhere. Someone further up the chain wants him.

And when that happens, all hope of rescue is lost.

Wedge sits for a long while in the dark, before his cell door opens. For a moment, he has a glimmer of hope; it could be Luke. But it isn’t. The stormtrooper looks at Wedge and says “Get up.”

Wedge doesn’t want to. Getting up means he’s being taken somewhere. That never leads to anything good.

His refusal isn’t met well. The stormtrooper beckons a partner over, and both enter the cell, hauling Wedge to his feet. He’s marched down the corridors. Wedge isn’t certain about directions, but he thinks he’s heading towards the hangar.

It’s now or never. He’s rescued now, or works out some way to free himself, or he’s gonna spend the rest of his life—and it probably won’t be a long one—imprisoned by the Imperials.

Another pair of Stormtroopers join the march. Wedge listens in; he doesn’t think they’re supposed to be there. His original guards seem surprised at the extra escort.

“You know these Rebels,” one of the additional stormtroopers says. “They can be tricky. He’s a Rogue after all.”

Wedge recognises that voice.

It’s Bodhi.

This is a rescue.

Wedge keeps his head down. He presumes that Luke is under the other helmet. He and Bodhi have a plan, and Wedge just has to wait for it to be sprung.

They walk round a corner into an empty corridor and suddenly everything changes. Bodhi and Luke move, taking the other two guards down, and one of them grabs Wedge’s hands and they’re running.

Wedge isn’t really sure what happens then. But they get clear. He’s bundled into a U-Wing and Luke and Bodhi fly the thing past the defences and they’re safe and in hyperspace and free.

Bodhi and Luke are both hasty to get out of the Stormtrooper armour and back into their own clothes. Luke’s the first to do it and return to Wedge, sitting in the U-Wing’s hold. He comes and sits beside Wedge.

“You came,” Wedge says. He’d held his faith, knew Luke would keep his promise, but it’s still a shock to have escaped and for all three of them to be alive and well.

“I promised you I would,” Luke replies. “The thought of leaving you—I couldn’t bear it.”

Wedge knows how that feels. He remembers the terror that had taken root in him when Luke was captured, the fear that he wouldn’t see Luke again. He’d had that same fear, waiting in that cell. He and Luke knew they were important to each other, but they’d never got to say it—and in the darkness, Wedge had promised himself that he had to try.

He raises a hand to Luke’s jaw, fingers brushing Luke’s skin. His thumb brushes along Luke’s lower lip. “I know,” he says, because he understands exactly how Luke feels. “I love you,” he adds, because if there was ever a time to speak the words aloud it’s now. Wedge doesn’t wait for a response, just leans in and Luke meets him in a soft kiss.

Kissing Luke feels like coming home; it feels like kissing someone he’s kissed a thousand times before. They fit together, and it’s easy. So easy. Wedge’s hand moves from Luke’s jaw to his neck, urging him closer. Luke’s hands clasp the front of Wedge’s flightsuit. The kiss goes from soft to searing, Wedge’s tongue pressed to the roof of Luke’s mouth, and—

“Oh.”

Wedge breaks the kiss and turns his head. Bodhi has walked into the hold, stopped at the threshold in shock at what he finds.

“It’s okay,” Bodhi says. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“No.”

Wedge is surprised to hear his protestation joined by Luke. He doesn’t want Bodhi to go, but he didn’t know that Luke would feel the same way.

“Come here?” Wedge asks, beckoning Bodhi over. Bodhi comes, slowly, closing the distance and then hesitating before finally taking a seat besides Wedge. “You saved me,” Wedge says, taking Bodhi’s hand. “You risked your life, your freedom, for mine. That’s no small thing, Bodhi.”

Bodhi looks down at Wedge’s hand, curled around his own. He looks at Luke, who has an arm wrapped around Wedge, but his gaze is fixed on Bodhi. He turns back to Wedge.

Wedge watches Bodhi, and feels the want rise in him. Being held by Luke feels safe, secure, and almost like it would be enough—but Luke wasn’t the only one who came for him. Bodhi did too.

Wedge reaches for Bodhi’s other hand, the prosthetic, and takes it. He lifts it to his lips and brushes a soft kiss against the matte black metal. Bodhi’s eyes widen. Wedge brings up Bodhi’s other hand and presses a kiss to warm skin. “Thank you,” he says.

Bodhi is frozen. Wedge’s actions seem to have caught him off-guard. But Wedge is sincere in every touch, every feeling. He wonders what else he can do to make Bodhi realise that. Then Luke’s breath is hot in his ear as Luke whispers to him. “Kiss him.”

Kiss Bodhi?

... It’s the obvious answer, the one Wedge has been missing. He wants to kiss both of them; why not just do it.

Wedge tightens his grip on both of Bodhi’s hands, tugging him closer. He leans up so he can feel the ghost of Bodhi’s breath on his lips. Bodhi doesn’t move away. “Can I?” Wedge whispers, wanting to give Bodhi a choice in this. Bodhi doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move. Wedge waits, giving Bodhi time to process, but there’s only so long he can sit in silence. “Please, Bodhi. I want to kiss you.”

The silence carries on. Until Bodhi breaks it. “But—” he says, sounding so uncertain. “Luke?”

Luke hooks his chin on Wedge’s shoulder, looking up at Bodhi. “I told you. All I want is for Wedge to be happy. And I really, _really_ , have no objections to him kissing you.”

He gives Bodhi an obvious once-over.

“Oh,” Bodhi says, finally getting it.

He presses forward, capturing Wedge’s lips in a kiss. Wedge kisses back, slightly surprised at Bodhi’s fierceness, but revelling in it. Luke’s strong arms remain around him, and then Luke is pressing kisses to the side of Wedge’s neck, and Wedge finally, _finally_ , feels complete.

* * *

Luke is the first to wake. He comes to consciousness wrapped around Wedge, chest plastered against Wedge’s back, hands looped around Wedge and brushing Bodhi’s skin.

He presses a kiss to the back of Wedge’s neck, and Wedge murmurs, grumbling slightly at the very thought of being awake. Luke laughs gently, just filled with delight that he gets to be here with Wedge, and with Bodhi.

It’s still early, so Wedge is right to grumble. They don’t have anywhere to be, not this morning, anyway. They’d returned, got a dressing down for absconding, but Mon Mothma had swept in and said it would be dealt with later. After all, there was no harm done. Luke and Bodhi had both returned, the U-Wing had not a scrap of damage on it, and Wedge Antilles was a free man once again.

And now Wedge is here, in bed with Luke, and Bodhi, all three of them curled up with each other.

Bodhi’s the next to wake. He stretches as he comes back to life, tugging free of Wedge’s grip. Wedge grumbles some more at the disruption, and Luke strokes his thumb across Wedge’s bare hip, murmuring softly to him. Wedge curls in on himself, determined to carry on sleeping.

Bodhi runs a hand over Wedge’s arm, soothing him. “S’okay, you sleep.” He presses a kiss to Wedge’s forehead and Wedge looses some of the tension he had, relaxing into slumber again. “Guess we wore him out last night.”

Luke thinks back. “I didn’t think that was a question.”

Bodhi chuckles, then leans up over Wedge’s shoulder to kiss Luke. Luke presses into the kiss with everything he can without disturbing Wedge any further.

When Bodhi pulls away, he’s smiling.

“You alright there?” Luke asks.

“Yeah,” Bodhi says. “I think I worked out where I was always meant to be.”


End file.
